


Put That Gun Right To My Heart

by tearsandholdme



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Manipulation, Human Derek Hale, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Possessive Behavior, Serial Killer Derek, Sexual Content, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-11 06:14:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2056920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tearsandholdme/pseuds/tearsandholdme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Everyone has their secrets. It's just a small fact of life. Some you tell to others if needs be and others you keep close to your heart. Some you keep to protect others from the truth because it's easier that way. Sometimes a little truth is too hard to stomach most of the time. Derek's secret was the biggest one of them all."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had this plot bunny dancing in my head after a gif set of Derek wearing those black leather gloves in season two. 
> 
> WHOOPS. 
> 
> Enjoy ;)
> 
> Title taken from Natalia Kills 'Love Is A Suicide'

Everyone has their secrets. It's just a small fact of life. Some you tell to others if needs be and others you keep close to your heart. Some you keep to protect others from the truth because it's easier that way. Sometimes a little truth is too hard to stomach most of the time. Derek's secret was the biggest one of them all. 

Meeting and dating Derek Hale had been a chance encounter. It was a heaving night in a club in town. Allison and Scott were lost on the dance floor, Lydia with some guy hooking up in the corner. Stiles could swear he saw his hand up her skirt. Derek appeared out of nowhere, a bottle of cold beer in his hand that he slid towards him. Stiles was half sure it was a massive mistake until he smiled a charming smile. The kind to sink under his skin and god he was perfect. Perfect and gorgeous and had a personality to match. Stiles had absolutely no idea why he would go for someone like him. 

It wouldn't stop playing through his mind the whole night they were chatting at the bar. Stiles used his charm anyway, it was a one shot deal. From the suggestive looks, the brush of his fingers against his arm, his hand, his waist, anything he could touch, it was clear what he wanted. Stiles was all for one night stands. It was just sex in the end. 

“Come on, I have a room,” Derek whispered into his ear. Stiles was lost in him from the get go when he nodded and slid his hand into his. Derek wouldn't stop kissing him, his tongue stroking against his, his teeth nibbling his bottom lip so he felt warm with arousal. God he wanted him, how could he not? It was too lucky to be true when they arrived outside a shitty motel. It was where hookers went with seedy old men. 

Derek met his eyes when he shot him a confused look and he shushed him with a grin. His mouth wouldn't leave his as they kissed into the room. The room dark and the bed springy once he was pushed down. Derek's body was a heavy press against his and he loved it. Loved being held down and pulled apart inch by inch. His clothes were removed and his lips were smooth and playful down his chest. Derek knew exactly what he was doing and Stiles couldn't resist kissing his neck. He paused in the middle of his actions to look at him stunned. His eyes dark in pleasure and lust only for him and Stiles' cock twitched. It was amazing. 

“Should I not have...?”

“No, no, you should have, come here,” Derek whispered, dragging him up and kissing him hard. His hands stroked over his throat as they kissed and he closed his eyes gasping at the pressure. It felt good to be handled like this and Derek soon removed his hands to pull all the way back. The condom was slid on and his fingers pressed in between his cheeks. The lube cold and his fingers intrusive when they slid inside of him. 

“You're so beautiful, so responsive,” Derek praised in a hushed tone. “God, just look at you.”

Stiles could do nothing more than groan his approval, his hips rolling to fuck down on the fingers spreading him wide open. The burning pleasure shooting up his spine with every tiny thrust of his fingers. Derek soon removed his fingers and guided his legs around his waist.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” Stiles chanted once Derek lined up. The slow push inside of him was painful at first till the pain faded. It was replaced by the fullness he loved and pleasure pulsated around him once Derek began to thrust. His hands found purchase in Derek's soft hair, his fingers gripping onto it as they shared slick kisses. His mouth intoxicating as they moved together, Derek thrusting harder into him and the mattress squeaked underneath them. Stiles wrapped a hand around his own cock and jerked himself off quick and fast. His orgasm hard and abrupt like Derek's thrusts inside of him when he squirted into his hand and hit Derek's stomach. It was perfect and blissful and he closed his eyes once Derek grunted into his neck soon after. Sweat covered his forehead and chest as they panted together and he winced once he pulled out. He tossed the condom and lay by his side breathing hard.

“That was...” Stiles gestured. “Um, wow, like...wow. I've...yeah.”

“You talk too much.”

“Habit,” he mumbled sleepily. His eyes drifting closed and he jumped feeling a hand around his neck. “What?”

“You mark up so prettily.”

“Yeah? I bruise like a peach! Dad always said when I was younger,” he muttered, staring into his eyes. “I was always running into things. Banging my knee or head.”

Derek nodded slowly, his eyes thoughtful when they looked over him and he removed his hand slowly. It didn't take him long at all to fall asleep and when he woke up hours later, he was still there. Derek was asleep on his back and he looked at him in awe. The fact he was still here baffled him and his creepy watching must have triggered him awake. Derek turned his eyes onto him and blinked a couple of times before adjusting.

“I'm getting a shower, fancy coffee?”

“S-Sure,” Stiles said dazed, the sheet pooling around his waist. Derek trailed his eyes up and down him appreciatively before entering the bathroom. It was insane and just like that it was was their beginning. 

Seven months down the line and here they were. The relationship wasn't the best at times, they argued something awful sometimes but they always made up. Something Stiles loved and he did love him. He really did. Maybe it was foolish to fall for someone so hard but he did anyway. They swapped when one of them would stay at each others. His apartment or Derek's massive loft. It was difficult when he shared an apartment with Scott but they made do. Living in New York had it's benefits and when they weren't together, he was at work. Training to be a deputy and he loved his job, he really did. Derek didn't work. Something he constantly questioned but never focused too much on if he could. 

In the end though, Stiles should have focused on it. It wasn't like Derek never left the loft because he did. Sometimes at night and at odd moments. It was always the same. 

“I have errands to run, I won't be long.” 

Stiles was always left with a kiss on his lips and questions buzzing in his mind. At first he believed it to be cheating. But Derek never came back with rumpled clothes or stinking of anything else suggestive. So that thought was dropped and he let his suspicions lie. What he should have done was dig a little deeper and it all came to head one random Wednesday afternoon. 

Stiles had been feeling lousy. His head filled with a headache and he felt stuffy. The comings of a cold and he begged leave to go home and sleep. He didn't bother telling Derek, would be so much easier to surprise him. Stiles let himself into Derek's loft, his bed was so much bigger and comfier. Plus he had chicken soup. He was quiet as he did it and he paused listening to a bang and a grunt from the bathroom. It surprised him and he moved pocketing his keys praying he wouldn't find him with someone else. Shower sex was something he didn't wish to see. 

Stiles eased open the door and poked his head through only to pause. It was all he could do as he took in the sight of a stranger with a slit throat. Blood soaked the bath and the man was convulsing, blood falling out of mouth as he gurgled and pleading eyes met his. Derek stood calmly staring at him, his hands covered in black leather gloves and a blade glistened blood in his hands. Like he had expected this to happen. 

“Oh my god,” Stiles breathed finally. His feet moved slowly backwards and Derek zeroed in on the movement.

“Stiles...”

“Oh my god!” he cried frantically backing up and tossing his bag aside to get to the front door. He didn't make it far when Derek caught him and slammed him against the front door when he cried and struggled frantically.

“Please, please don't hurt me, oh my god, please,” he pleaded with him. His hands gripped the metal, his breath was leaving him in harsh pants and his heart raced. Derek was shushing him during his panic and he bucked to get him off. But he was stronger, stronger and calmer than him. His arm wrapped around his neck when he dragged him away from the door. Stiles whimpered, his nails digging into his arm as he did so and they stood in the middle of the room together.

“I need you to listen to me. You're panicking, I'm not going to hurt you, I would never ever hurt you,” he whispered into his ear. “But you need to calm down, now.”

“Calm down? Calm down?! There is a guy laying dead in your bath and you killed him! You killed him!” he shouted, struggling against him and gagging at the smell of blood on his hands. It had stained into his clothes and he sucked in deep breaths trying to calm down but it was useless. Derek swore dragging him with him as he was led into the kitchen and he opened a drawer.

“Okay, here we go...”

“No, wait, what?” he cried. There was a prick to his neck and he cried out seeing the needle.

“I've been prepared for this, it's okay, it's okay,” he whispered.

“No, oh my god, oh my god!” 

Stiles was led to the couch to lie down and he felt drowsy as he struggled staring up at him. Derek shushed him, his lips pressing to his forehead.

“Just sleep, it's okay, you'll be okay,” he whispered, his hand stroking against his cheek. Stiles couldn't believe this was happening to him and the drug was slowly taking hold of him. Derek moved away and he swallowed hard staring up at the ceiling to let it take him. It was a drug fueled dream that left him sleeping for god knows how long. He vaguely remembered waking up every now and again to nothing but vague images till he finally woke up. Stiles was no longer on the couch but in bed. His hand cuffed to the bed from were he jiggled it and it clanked noisily. Stiles jangled it furiously and looked up once Derek walked in holding a glass of water. He was wearing different clothes and the blood was gone from his hands. 

Stiles glanced down at his chest to see he too had a change of clothes. 

“Stay away from me,” he whispered.

“I need to explain.”

“No, you need to stay the fuck away from me!” he shouted. 

Derek licked his lips and sat on the bed next to him. His orders ignored and he couldn't move away from him, his back pressed to the headboard. His heart was beating fast and he swallowed the nausea back.

“Where's that guy?”

“Disposed of.”

Stiles exhaled heavily, his free hand rubbing over his face frantically. “Who are you?”

“Derek Hale.”

“No, no, the real you, not this lie I've been getting to know for months on end!” he shouted. “You, the one who stood in that bathroom...who slit that guy's throat...what – what is going on with you?”

“I wanted to tell you...”

“Bullshit!” Stiles cried. 

“I did. You don't have to believe that but believe me when I tell you that I never meant for you to find out that way,” Derek said slowly. “That man was Jefferson Taylor and he's just recently moved in down the street. His wife and two small children too. Who he beat. I noticed when I helped Wendy Taylor with her shopping and noticed the bruises on her wrists, the foundation covering her bruised cheek. Her children looking timid and scared around older men. So I got rid of him.”

“Got rid of him,” Stiles repeated. “You slit his throat!”

“Prison isn't good enough for him.”

“You – have you – have you done this before?” Stiles demanded.

“Yes.”

He stared at him stunned, his throat working as he swallowed and rubbed his nose with a shaking hand.

“How long?” he whispered.

Derek hesitated a moment before answering. “I told you about my family. How they died. How the woman who murdered them in their beds thought we were monsters. I killed her. I ripped her apart all those years ago and I swore to myself I would make anyone pay. Anyone who hurt loves ones, who hurt families, children, women, men. Anyone who had wronged me or hurt the ones I love. I would erase them.”

“So – so you've been lying to me all this time?”

Derek stared at him expressionlessly. Stiles choked and looked away from him to stare at the wall instead of him. Anything but him. 

“Did you – did you ever want to erase me?” he whispered.

“In the beginning.”

“What?”

“Do you remember crashing into someone and spilling your drink all over them? It was your fault but you shouted anyway, you were crass, loud, and you shoved me away hard enough to crash into a young woman who split her lip on her glass.”

“I don't...” he began, his head shaking slowly. 

“No, I know what you're like drunk now,” he murmured fondly. “It's why I took you to the room. But you charmed me, you were different, Stiles. I liked it. So I didn't and I am so glad I changed my mind.”

“Do you always change your mind?”

“No.”

Stiles couldn't stop himself from letting out a soft whimper. It was a bad dream. It had to be a very awful nightmare, his fingers pinched his thigh and he hissed at the pain. He was awake and this was real. The man he loved was a mass murderer and he was handcuffed to his bed.

“How did I not...” he trailed off. “You lied to me, all this time, you're...a killer. You kill people.”

“They deserve it.”

“You wanted to kill me! I didn't deserve it!” he shouted at him. 

“No, I was wrong about you. I don't want to hurt you, Stiles, I love you,” Derek murmured carefully. His hand cupping his knee gently so he twitched away from it. “I love you so much.”

“You love me so much that you kill people? That's not showing love!”

“No, that's just a side of me you didn't know. My love for you isn't any different. I've never...” Derek muttered, his teeth sliding over his bottom lip. “I have never loved anyone like you. Ever. You're my whole life.”

“Then let me out of here,” he murmured, his hand jiggling the handcuffs. “Please?”

“How do I know you won't do something very stupid?”

“I won't.”

“You're a bad liar,” Derek regarded amused. His hand stroked against his cheek so he flinched back. “Why I love you. No, you need to calm down, think about this properly. I'd never ever hurt you or let anyone hurt you.” 

“Hurt me? Who would anyone want to hurt me?”

“No one but people who would want to or people who interfere.”

Stiles blinked taking that information in. Derek stood brushing his hands against his jeans and headed to the door when it hit him.

“Have you killed someone over me?” Stiles demanded. Derek turned raising an eyebrow in his direction. “Answer me!”

“Would it really help if I answered?”

“Fucking tell me!”

“Just one.”

Stiles swallowed hard, the tears burning in the back of his eyes. “Who?”

“You don't know him and even if you did it wouldn't matter. You probably don't remember but it was the man who hit on you three months back. He knew you were taken and still tried, still tried to get you into bed with him. Even proposed a threesome. He was married and drunk so I stabbed him in the back.”

His eyes squeezed together tight letting the tears fall for the innocent life stolen away and he sobbed, his head bowed to do it. The door shut on his way out and Stiles cried harder. His emotions like a painful beat in his chest as he cried and honestly tried to take it all in. It really wasn't everyday this happened. Stiles cried till tears soaked his pillow and he felt a sense of calm inside of him once they dried up. It was made clear to him when he realized he had to get out of there. He needed to think and he couldn't do that with Derek around. 

Stiles moved slowly and eased open the drawer to find a pin. Lydia was forever dropping them in the loft and he collected them together. Their use was to be used today and he fiddled with it till he heard the lock click. Derek conveniently forgot he was a deputy and his father was a Sheriff. There was always handcuffs. His body slid out of the bed and he bent down collecting the wooden bat under the bed. 

So silly now. Who the hell needed a bat when their boyfriend was a serial killer. Stiles adjusted his grip on the bat and headed to the door to ease it open. The radio was playing in the kitchen and he used that as his momentum to sneak out. Derek was cooking bacon from the smell of it and tears stung his eyes. His heart ached as he crept forward and pressed down the urge to cry like a baby again. Stiles crept slowly, his hand tight around the bat as he made his way forward. 

Derek seemed to sense he was behind him when he turned and Stiles didn't hesitate. He didn't hesitate for one moment to raise the bat and swing hard. The bat hitting him around the head so he stumbled back, his back colliding with the cabinets with a loud crash.

“Stiles...” he whispered faintly. Stiles moved forward, his hand fisting the back of his hair to smack it viciously into the cabinet once to knock him out. Derek slumped to the lino out cold and he exhaled shakily. His trembling hand pressed to his mouth at the realization of what he had done and he moved away to grab his shoes and coat.

Where could he go that was safe? Scott, Allison, Lydia, Jackson, they were all out of the question. He had to protect them. His dad was too far away for him to run to. In the end he decided on the one person Derek would never suspect. 

*

“Hey, Greenburg,” Stiles said breathlessly.

“Stiles,” Greenburg answered confused. “What are you doing here?”

“My, um, my place flooded, me and my boyfriend had a massive fight. Scott is AWOL and I need – I need a place to stay for the night. So I thought, my buddy, Greenburg!” he exclaimed, gesturing at him. “So, is it okay?”

“Yeah, man!”

Stiles was half convinced he was high as a kite. His place was a state but Stiles didn't care. It was away from Derek. The fact he was lying on the floor unconscious after being hit by a bat didn't fill him with confidence and in fact he felt sick. Sick enough to nod along to Greenburg's questions and he was allowed to sleep on the couch. That was fine with him and he nodded along with him. Greenburg left him to it once he headed upstairs and Stiles was left in the living room to pace up and down.

“This can't be happening,” he whispered, his head in his hands as he did it and he swallowed hard. “Why is this happening?!”

Sleep was hard to come by and he ended up staring up at the ceiling listening to next door argue faintly. His head was so clouded. How didn't he spot this before? It made so much sense and it didn't at the same time. It explained why he disappeared, why some stories didn't add up. What didn't make sense was why he did it? Why would he do this to him? 

He stood up with his mind buzzing and he rubbed his hands through his hair aggressively. It was only when he pushed to stand up that he saw the shadow pass by the window. His heart thundered dangerously in his chest and he dared to breathe watching and waiting. Did he imagine it? Was his mind playing tricks with him? Stiles moved slowly towards the window and peeked out through the blinds to the front yard. There was no one around. No one that caused him to panic too much.

His heartbeat was in his ears and he stepped back exhaling heavily relieved. What he didn't expect was to fall into a chest and he turned alarmed.

“Greenburg really?” he whispered into his ear. Stiles opened and closed his mouth wordlessly and struggled when his arm clamped around his chest. 

“Pretty easy to pick his lock and get in here. You didn't even hear me.”

“How...” he trailed off, his head shaking side to side. 

“I know all about you, better than anyone. I know Greenburg, he's always wanted to be your friend, a little creepy about it. You don't like him like that and prefer to be mutually okay with each other. Pretty easy to guess you wouldn't go to Scott or Lydia. You'd protect them.”

Stiles twisted in his arms to see him through the street light. He looked okay apart from the blood staining the side of his face. Relief pumped alongside the fear in his veins and he hated how much he cared. How much he still loved him and it must of shown in his face when Derek kissed him. Guilt twisted his insides when he kissed him back till he pulled back with a soft whimper.

“It's okay, I know why you did it. Very brave, very...you,” he murmured into his ear. “But also stupid. So I need you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“Shout, scream, call for help.”

“What?”

“Do it!” he hissed, a knife appearing at his throat to spur him on. Stiles cried out, a loud sound in the living room when he panted. “Please, Derek, don't! Don't, please!”

It caused a commotion upstairs and he gasped shaking his head. “Derek, no, you can't! Please!”

Derek was silent, merciless, quick on his feet and ready when he pushed him behind his body with one hand. Stiles trembled behind him unable to do anything as Greenburg opened the door disorientated and confused. Stiles could only watch in horror when Derek stepped forward and with careful precision slid the knife across his throat. The sharp metal slicing the skin open so his eyes bulged. His hands clutched at his throat as he scrambled against the spurting blood. Stiles gagged stumbling back till Derek caught him, his hand shielding his face into his chest because he knew he hated blood. It didn't stop him from hearing the gurgles of pain and death in the room. Stiles sobbed into his chest, dry sobs that hurt his chest and he hit at Derek weakly. 

“It had to happen.”

“Why?!” Stiles shouted hysterically. His eyes flickered to Greenburg now on the floor. His body dead and warm on the floor surrounded in a pool of his own blood. “He didn't do anything! Nothing! Fuck, you're nothing but a cold blooded murderer!”

“It was a lesson.”

“For who?” Stiles demanded. 

“You, you left me, you hit me around the head with a baseball bat and you came here.”

“So – so it's a threat. I leave again and you kill the person I run to, is that it!?” he cried, his voice cracking from the emotions gripping at his chest and heart. 

“No. But you taught me a lesson, so I taught you one.”

“Oh my god!” Stiles screamed at him. He shoved him away hard and with a trembling hand covered his mouth. “This is – it's like a nightmare. Never ending nightmare and it's not even a nightmare. It's real. All this time, all this fucking time, you were nothing more than a murderer and you – you told me you loved me!”

“I do love you. I love you more than anything in this world, Stiles, because you're all I have. All I want. So that's why I can't let you go.”

Stiles stood still at his words and swallowed hard. “Don't I have any choice?”

Derek wiped the blade carefully before sliding it back into his jacket. “You love me.”

“No...”

“Yes, you do, I know you do, because this doesn't stop someone loving them. I know you love me, I can see it,” he murmured, his hand cupping his chin. Tears flooded his eyes and spilled down so he choked on his breath. “It's just you and me. Just like before.”

“Little difference of you killing people.”

“They deserve it.”

“He didn't deserve it!” Stiles cried, gesturing at Greenburg. “Fuck!”

Derek's mouth twisted and he swallowed hard shutting his eyes once he tugged him into his arms rubbing his back. It was twisted, so twisted and messed up. His mouth trailed across his ear and down his jaw to kiss him and he pulled back shaking his head.

“This is wrong, this is so wrong...”

“It's not wrong. We're not wrong. We're right for one another.” 

“No, no, no, that's just your fucked up mind! If – if I left right now, if I took off and never looked back...would you follow me? Would my family and friends be safe from you?” he demanded. Derek's jaw worked and his eyes squinted as he stared at him

“Fine,” he murmured, stepping towards him. “If you ran, I'd follow you. I wouldn't hurt them, I don't kill people for the sake of it. But I know you won't run, not now, not ever, because I love you and you love me. It doesn't change anything now that you know the truth.”

Stiles could feel his mouth tremble looking at him. His arguments would fail, he could see the outcome before it even happened. Derek glanced at his body and sighed deeply. 

“I better dispose of this. Get rid of the evidence. You can watch if you want, pick up a few ideas,” he hinted. Stiles couldn't speak and instead stared at him horrified. Derek didn't have to say it out loud. Stiles knew what he meant and knew what he wanted. If he had his own way, Stiles would be killing people with him. Two psychopaths in love. Stiles was walked to the car waiting outside and locked in while Derek cleaned up.

It was frustrating as hell and he slammed his fist hard into the dashboard. Derek took half an hour before he returned and Stiles was officially drained. Emotionally and physically when he stared out of the window and refused to look at him. Derek was silent and smelt of dirt and blood. It was disgusting. It was silent between them as he drove them home and he took his hand once they arrived. It was obvious that he didn't want to let go of him.

The door was locked behind them and he looked around the place with sore eyes. 

“I cleaned the blood up.”

“I want to sleep,” he whispered. “You – you stay on the couch. Please, just...I don't want you near me.”

Derek was silent and he didn't bother waiting for an answer. The bed was his calling once he stepped into the bedroom and shred his clothes. The tears fell even when he hit on the bed and he hated how torn up and emotional he was. Nothing made sense no longer. It didn't surprise him at all that Derek didn't listen to him and he felt a dip on the bed. His body hot against his when he laid down under the covers, his hand sliding up to take his, his lips brushing his temple.

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah,” Stiles murmured. Derek turned him onto his back and he met his eyes for a moment before looking away. His fingers pressed into his jaw forcing him to look at him. 

“It can be like before, nothing can be different, just you and me...” he spoke softly. Stiles didn't know how to argue and he squeezed his eyes together tight. There was no way out. If he ran, Derek would follow him. He couldn't turn him in, Derek would figure that out long before he could. It was hopeless and he exhaled with a shudder when he kissed down his neck slowly. 

“I love you,” Derek whispered into the crease of his neck. “Tell me you love me too. Please.”

His hand cupped his neck when he didn't answer and he met his eyes. 

“Stiles...”

“I – I love you.”

There was no denying the words weren't true because they were. Your whole life can change in just a day but feelings, emotions, they were harder to turn off. Harder to change and he'd be lying not only to Derek but to himself because he did love him. Loved him enough still to sicken himself. Instead of facing it though, he desperately tried to ignore it. His face was pushed into Derek's face so he could breathe in the warm smell of his aftershave lingering there and he thought back to before. Before he knew who Derek really was and when things were fine and sane between them. There he could love him without feeling that tremendous weight of pain and guilt, without feeling that Derek had somehow won. 

While his mind buzzed and screamed inside, Derek whispered endearments into his ear. Endearments meant to soothe and comfort. How they'd be okay, nothing would happen to him, to them, that he'd never leave him. That he'd soon adjust to it all and they'd be together. Words that caressed over his skin like fire, a searing burn, like a bullet wound into his heart over and over again while he listened. 

“It's going to be okay, you'll see...”

His fingers drifted over his eyes attentively, the fingertips pressing over the lids to close them down. Like a cage door and this time there was no way out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to continue it and add a little Dark!Stiles to it and I'm having fun writing little chapters of it. 
> 
> Enjoy (:

It was a month after he discovered the truth that Stiles decided to leave. It was a panic attack that did it. When Derek came home, his top stained in blood, a genuine smile on his lips before he washed up. Stiles panicked and fought back the tears and nausea to plan his escape. He just needed to get away, to think, to plan on what to do next. Stiles loved him, god he did love him despite everything. Love was a fickle thing and even learning the one you loved was a serial killer did nothing to dampen it. It just hurt so much more now. Hurt to kiss and touch him knowing what those hands had done, what he had originally planned to do to him. The money and bag was easy to put together, escaping was a whole other and with his job gone he was free to leave. His job still played on his mind. How Derek called it 'sensible' to hand in his notice. Stiles called it manipulation and fear. His job was something he loved and it had been taken away. Reduced to nothing but words on his resume and a lifetime of hiding in Derek's loft. 

His solution in the end was to drug him. Make him steak and fries. Press sleeping tablets ground into dust to put into his sauce and watch him eat it all up without complaint. Stiles felt a sense of pride and power once Derek started slipping under and it made him question. Did Derek feel this way when he took a life? Took justice into his own hands and rid the scum of the Earth. It didn't take him long at all to fall asleep in front of the television. Stiles took his coat, bag, money, and passport. If flying to another country was an option then so be it. Stiles kissed him softly on the forehead, he left locking the door behind him and he walked away slowly. 

He caught a cab and drove far away from the loft. Drove till he found a scummy motel and he paid the driver. Stiles watched the car drive away till it was nothing but a speck in the distance. The woman eyed him uninterested when he paid for a room and he slot the key in and turned opening the door. It was nothing special at all and he swallowed hard dumping his bag down onto the sticky floor. Stiles drank down a glass of water and slammed it down shakily. His hands wouldn't stop trembling and he jumped out of his skin when his phone rang.

It didn't surprise him to see Derek's name flashing and he counted to three before answering.

“If you love me, really love me, you'll stay away.”

“Smart move to drug me. I got your little note,” Derek said carefully. “Don't try and find me. Is that a dare?”

“Derek, please!” he pleaded, sitting down on the bed. “I can't do this. You don't need me, you don't. You think you do.”

“Who are you lying to? Me or yourself or...both?”

“No one! I'm telling the truth, something you can't do! I'm telling you to leave me alone, go and slaughter all the evil in the world. I don't care, just don't,” he muttered, trailing off with a heavy sigh. “Don't involve me in this. I can't...I can't watch someone I love do that. You won't stop.”

“I love you...”

“Stop it,” he whispered.

“I can't, I'm sorry.”

“No you're not, you never have been. Fine, try and find me. Good luck on that!” he spat, hanging up and tossing his phone aside. His hands gripped into his hair and he fell back onto the bed with a heavy grunt. Sleep was hard to come by that night and he found himself jerking awake, his hand gripped tight around the knife. He had to have something on him and a gun was out of the question. 

Stiles left that early morning, the cold air touching his skin so he shivered and hiked his bag over his shoulder. It was a long walk down the road but Stiles liked it. Liked that he had time to think about everything. It had been a strange month with Derek. It was like the cat was out of the bag and it meant his guard had been taken down. Blood stained his hands from time to time when they caressed his skin.

Stiles was so tired of the smell of blood. Heady with the scent of rust and meat. It lingered and choked him from time to time and the guilt burned every single time they had sex. It was such an intimate surrender to him but he never said no to him either Always allowed it to happen and he sighed deeply stopping to hitchhike. His thumb was stuck out and he waited until a car slowed down. It was a woman in her mid thirties eying him carefully.

“Where you headed?”

“Anywhere that isn't here.”

“I'm heading to Upper Manhattan.”

“Awesome, I'll pay you for gas,” he muttered, sliding into the car. 

“You got a name?”

“Stiles,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. The conversation drifted in and out but he didn't tell her much. It was easy to tell she was the person to talk and talk till you told her your whole life story. Stiles didn't think telling her his boyfriend was a serial killer would go down too well. She dropped him off on an unknown sidewalk and left with a few dollars stuffed into her hand. He was far away from Derek and for one moment he let himself relax. How could he find him here?

His stomach rumbled and he laughed quietly to himself before taking off to find some food and drink. He settled on a coffee and sandwich in a store and sat down making himself comfortable. Being away from him was both calming and distressing because he didn't want to be away from him. Stiles loved him and hated him and it was a very fine line. 

He drank and ate till he was full before setting off once again. People bustled past him unknown and unaware to his conflicts. None of it mattered in the end. They had their lives and he had his and his was currently a mess. Stiles settled for a motel near the side of the road and this time round the room was adequate. It wasn't the mess he imagined and he slumped on the bed exhausted. 

His dreams were a confusing swirling mess of blood and Derek. Derek screaming at him till his ear drums popped, blood soaking his hands when he stood over bodies. The bodies belonged to Scott, Lydia, Jackson, Lydia, his dad, Melissa, everyone he cared about dead. Derek stood behind him, a smug proud smile painted onto his lips as he assessed the damage.

“I am so proud of you,” he purred into his ear. “You did it, now – now it's just you and me...forever.”

“Forever,” he repeated numbly. 

The shock of it was enough to wake him up crying out and panicked. Sweat clung to him and he pushed the covers away to swing his legs around. 

“Fuck!” he hissed. Stiles poured a glass of water and downed it in gulps. His heart was racing and he felt exhausted as he stood there in the tiny kitchen. There was a door shutting outside that made him jump and turn looking at the window spilling in light from outside. The room was dark and he glanced around nervously. It wasn't unlike Derek to sneak in and catch him off guard again. Like Greenburg.

Stiles swallowed hard thinking about him. They discovered his body after three days and the cops still had no idea who killed him. They suspected a 'drug dealer' and he couldn't get the sounds of Greenburg's choked off cries of death out of his head. The blood saturated the air and he died because of him. His mouth twisted and he turned sitting on the damp bed with a heavy sigh. Sleep was hard to come by after that and every sound caused him to clutch at his knife. It was going to make him sick by the end of it and he hated how it made him feel. He left early morning to rain and sighed deeply ducking his head to walk. It was a walk that left him damp and sitting in coffee shops. The windows steaming up when he drank from it slowly and for the first time turned on his phone. There was a dozen missed calls and voice messages from Derek. One message from Scott and his dad and that was it.

Stiles sent them a quick message each before shutting off his phone and sitting back. He ended up giving up halfway into the afternoon and found another motel. This was one was nice enough and he settled into the chosen room. The bed was comfortable and smelt of fresh detergent once he settled down for a sleep. His dreams were hazy and he was half sure he felt someone stroking his hair. His mind woke him up and he turned falling into someone warm and solid. 

Stiles opened his eyes slowly, the room was darkening but the figure next to him was warm, solid, familiar, and awake. He was quiet as he gripped the knife tight into his hand before wrenching up and away to stand. Derek was quiet, his eyebrows raised as he looked at him and at the knife.

“Hello, long time no see,” he murmured, hands raised to cup the back of his head.

“How did you find me?”

“You turned your phone on and your GPS came on too. Pretty easy to get a location and then search through every motel in the area,” he said calmly. “Then to flirt with the pretty girl at the front desk. You always told me I had a way of getting information out of people because I was...what was the word?”

“Pretty,” Stiles breathed.

“There it is,” he muttered, pushing up to stand and look into his eyes. “It's been a long few days.”

“Stay away from me,” he threatened, holding the knife up at him. “If you don't want this fucking knife through your heart...you'll leave...right now.”

“Oh I like it,” Derek murmured, head tiling at him, a smile on his lips. “Could you really do it?”

“Yes,” he said uncertainly. 

“Oh you say it but it's not in your eyes. Could you really kill me, Stiles?” he murmured, one foot stepping closer to him when he backed up. His hand shaking a little as he gripped the knife tighter in his hand. “To end my life like that.”

“I told you not to follow me!”

“I ignored you.”

“Fuck!” he cried, dragging his hand through his hair. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I lo -”

“Don't!” Stiles interrupted sharply. “Love has nothing to do this! You're a psychopathic killer who kills people because of it. Like some avenging angel...killing the bad. Dragging me into this because you say love me. Love me enough to make me quit my job!”

“You decided to quit your job.”

“Because I felt guilty! How the fuck could I be a deputy knowing that my boyfriend was a murderer?!” he shouted, stepping forward, his hand brandishing the knife. “I couldn't do it. I can't. I know what you're trying to do.”

“That is?” Derek questioned softly, his arms crossing over his chest. 

“Turn me into a killer, into you,” Stiles replied.

Derek smirked. “You do realize you're stood holding a knife out to me.”

“Because I was scared! Scared you'd find me and I was right!”

“Clever boy,” Derek teased. Stiles swallowed hard, his tongue running across his teeth before he stepped forward. His hand clasping around his neck to slam him into the wall behind him hard. Derek to his surprise went willingly, a grunt escaping his lips when the knife pressed into his throat. 

“I have enough motive to do it.”

“Yeah, a little spark burning inside of you, a fire I know you have. Have you ever imagined killing anybody, Stiles?”

“Yes.”

Derek smiled, a slow smile spreading over his lips, his hands warm where they rested on his hips. “Who?”

“You, countless times, each times it's bloodier than the rest!”

“Anyone else?” 

“Who cares about anyone else?” Stiles hissed, yanking the knife away. “I'm not a killer!”

“We're animals, Stiles,” Derek said softly. “That's what the human race is, Stiles. We're the most violent species on the planet, we kill more than anything else on the planet. We do it for fun, to survive, to help, to eat, to live each and every day but we do it in the act of...goodness. Violent in every way possible but nothing can stop us. Why? Free will. The freedom to do as we please and damn the rules! Why should I feel guilty for killing a man or a woman who abuses and kills and manipulates?”

“Because it's wrong!” he cried, his voice shaking as he did. 

“Because of a law?”

“Yes!”

“It's wrong for a woman to hit her child and get away with it., a man to rape his wife or girlfriend, a woman to hit her husband. You have thought about other people, other people to kill haven't you?”

Stiles swallowed his nausea and shook his head but Derek smirked catching onto his lie. Of course he had thought about killing someone. Everyone has thought about killing someone sometime in their lives. For a split second or in detail. Having that power to end a life and for them to have no control over it. Stiles shuddered shaking his head to get the thought out of him. It gave Derek leeway to grab the knife out of his hand and chuck it at the floor. His back hit the wall hard and he gasped at the knee pressed in between his thighs because it felt so good. 

“I hate you,” he whispered against his cheek.

“I know you do,” Derek replied gently, his hand caressing his hip. “I'm going to go out...”

“What? What for?” he breathed.

“To prove my point. Stay here, do not move.”

“Derek...” Stiles murmured frightened. His body was left slumped against the wall when Derek left him and locked the door behind him. He was trapped in his own room when he tried the front door and cursed him sitting down on the bed. It felt like hours until Derek returned and he wasn't alone. Stiles braced himself against the bed when they walked in stumbling around like a drunken couple till the door was closed. Derek lost his composure and shoved the tied up woman onto the bed. 

Stiles got a good look of her both stunned and petrified. Her clothes were tight fitting, a short skirt and a tight pink top. Her hair was a dyed red, her face stained in makeup as she sobbed and curled up on the bed with bound hands. This woman was clearly in her early thirties and Stiles knew she was bad. She'd have to be.

“Derek, what are you doing?”

“Say hello to Clare, Stiles, Clare here is a young woman out out for a good time. Expect she's not good and she's not single. You can tell by the tan line on her finger that she's married and from what I got her purse...she has a kid. Only young.”

“So she's having affairs, so what? It's her business, not ours!” he hissed, looking between them. 

“She's also abusing that kid.”

“What? How do you know that?” Stiles questioned him baffled. Derek held out her phone. Clare let out a whimper on the bed as she struggled and sobbed in vain. 

“Text messages with lovers about her little brat as she calls, he's only four years old, taken to the hospital twice for injuries she caused apparently. Deleted searches for cover ups on bruises,” he said, slapping the phone into his hand. “Now what does she deserve? Prison or something a little quicker and a little painful.”

“You actually investigate them don't you?” he whispered, staring down at the phone. 

“If it calls for it but I was actually looking this time.”

“For me,” he stated. “You want me to kill her.”

“I'd never force you into something you didn't want to do.”

Stiles laughed harshly despite the situation he was in and he tossed the phone to the floor looking at Clare. Clare who was screaming for help under her gag, her tears soaking her stained cheeks as she struggled and stared at him in return. 

“Your four year old son? Do you really hurt him?” he whispered, stepping closer to the bed. “Just a little boy and his mom and you...you hurt him like he's something to be pushed down and hurt?”

Clare sobbed behind her gag and shook her head. The lie was in her eyes though and he swallowed hard feeling violently sick. 

“I'd do anything, anything to get my mom back. Dementia took her away and she didn't even know who I was in the end. Just a little boy sat at her bed! But yours...he'll be scarred, he's old enough to remember, remember to feel scared when mommy hits him or beats him or calls him names and hurts him,” he hissed into her face. Derek stood by watching him as he pulled back exhaling shakily. The anger and rage pumping through his veins. His hand found the knife when he stood and turned to look at her.

“No, no, no, please!” she screeched muffled. 

“Do you hurt him?”

“No!”

“Do you hurt him?!” he shouted at her. “Do you beat your son or all those messages lies? How about we ask them or your husband?”

Clare cried, her head bowing as her shoulders shook and he swallowed hard. “It – it – it was once, I swear...” 

Derek raised his eyebrows at him slowly hen he looked up at him. “Is this why you do it?”

“Part of the reason...”

“You want me to do this? To become like you,” Stiles murmured, his eyes drifting down to the knife in his hand. “Bring her here and test me on my weakest points. To drag me down!”

“No, I wanted to show you...your potential.”

“To be a killer?” Stiles muttered, looking up into his eyes. “I'm not like you.”

“No, you're nothing like me, but there's something inside of you. It's like a spark waiting to ignite, I want to see what happens when we strike the match and light you up.”

The words struck at him hard and fast, the pleasure shining in Derek's eyes caused his stomach to flip nervously and he turned his attention to Clare. Her chest heaved as she looked between them and now that he had her attention, she began to plead for her life, to think of her husband, son, family. 

“The people you've hurt,” he answered softly for her. “Your son won't miss you and neither will your poor husband. The world is better off without a mom who beats her kid...” 

To grip the back of her head was the easy part, the hardest was plunging the knife into her neck. The same way Derek did to Greenburg all those weeks back. The wound gaped and the blood gushed, blood hitting his cheek when he turned his head away. Derek caught him when he stepped back and looked away as she struggled helplessly. Her gasps and gurgles slowly slipping as her body slumped and she twitched her last. The knife dropped from his shaking hand and he gagged a little at what he had done. Had he actually just done that?

Derek shushed him and he could dimly hear gasping that belonged to him. Derek sat on the floor with him cradled in his hands, his body rocking him gently so he clung to his arms. His lips pressed again and again to his temple so he shook all over and tried to get his head around what he had just done. There was a sense of guilt but also redemption, a tiny part of him when he looked over and he knew she wouldn't hurt her child no longer. He'd grow up without fear and bruises. Clare would be nothing more than a memory. 

“I'm proud of you,” Derek whispered into his ear. 

Of course he was. It was what he wanted in the end. Stiles glanced up at him and met his eyes finally. 

“Look what you did...”

“It's okay, it's okay,” Derek whispered, kissing his mouth tenderly. Stiles blinked hard feeling the tears glisten and sting there and he let them fall. Stiles cried himself out till he was exhausted and slumped into his arms. Derek held him the entire time till he was done and desperate for sleep. 

“What about the body?” he whispered. 

“I'll sort it. I promise,” Derek murmured, his hand taking his to intertwine their fingers together. “It's just you and me now. I'm going to take care of you.”

 _“And turn me into a monster,”_ Stiles thought. _“Or maybe I'm already there?”_

“Forever?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows in his direction. 

Derek smiled faintly, his fingers stroking against his cheek to collect the blood still wet there. He grabbed his other hand so the blood smeared across their hands. Like a blood promise, one that would stick to the both of them. 

“Forever,” Derek agreed, his teeth teasing his ear so he sucked in a breath and shut his eyes with a final heavy exhale.

**Author's Note:**

> I may write more.


End file.
